


If I ever lose my faith in you

by bongbingbong



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:49:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bongbingbong/pseuds/bongbingbong
Summary: "Two day. Baze Malbus had been praying for two days now."Around the time Order 66 happens, Chirrut still has his sight, and Baze Malbus is the most devoted believer in the force he has ever met. Both of those things change.





	1. Chapter 1

Two days. Baze Malbus had been praying for two days now. He had woken in the middle of the night, gasping with a pain that was mirrored in Chirrut’s dark eyes. They had held each other, unable to give words to the loss they had felt, as though a part of their souls had been severed. It was a wound far greater than any their physical bodies could have sustained. By now the temple had received confirmation - the Jedi were dead. All of them. The Empire was on their way, people were saying, and the guardians were restless, preparing to defend their temple, Chirrut among them. He surveyed the temple’s defences with a keen eye, led the guardians in their drills, studied the maps of the city, its hidden alleys and routes. Baze remained in prayer. He was searching for answers, for insight, and for that Chirrut could not begrudge his absence. However, his mind would not let him join his partner. They were the vessels of the Force, their hands would do the Force’s work.

On a level that Chirrut was not yet ready to admit to himself, he worked also to keep his fear at bay. The slaughter of the Jedi had left a gaping hole in the force, a great emptiness that threatened to swallow them all if they let it. The Force was always a source of certainty and understanding, and suddenly, an immense part of it had been rendered unknowable. Blank. The guardians marvelled at Chirrut’s ability to continue despite all they had suffered, and yet he knew it was because he had not yet opened himself to the truth, the way Baze had.

_“The force is with me, I am one with the force-”_

Chirrut’s heart clenched at the sight of Baze, his forehead pressed to the ground, broad shoulders trembling. His voice was wrecked, worn down to the point where each word was barely more than a whisper. Every now and then, the stream of words would hitch, his body jerking with a dry sob. Chirrut waited, watching, a cup of water in his hands. It felt wrong to speak into the room, where Baze had filled it with the words of his devotion and his grief. It did not matter; Baze had sensed his presence, and the prayer slowed to a stop. He paused, still bent forward to the ground, and let out a deep sigh. He seemed to deflate with it, going from a controlled posture of prostration to simply being slumped over with weariness.

Chirrut knelt beside him, placing one hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Baze seemed to curl further into himself, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Chirrut placed the cup beside him, then ran his fingers over Baze’s short-cropped hair, soothing and massaging gently near the base of his skull, where he knew it must ache terribly by now. By and by, Baze seemed to come back to himself, straightening with a strangled sound of pain. Together they breathed deeply, before Baze finally found the strength to look at Chirrut. Chirrut felt himself grow cold all over - his eyes were wide, red-rimmed and watery, and they searched for something, an understanding perhaps, of what had happened. What they would do now. He looked lost.

“The rest of the temple are preparing for a-” Chirrut’s voice trailed off as he searched for the right words. Were they preparing for an attack? An invasion even? Uncertainty made the calm assurance of the Force jump and stutter along the edges of his awareness.

“Pray with me, Chirrut,” whispered Baze.   
_“You’re exhausted,”_ Chirrut wanted to say, wanted to scoop him up and carry him to their room.   
“Have a little water first,” he said, “you sound like an engine exhaust. You’re starting to smell like one, too.” 

The barest hint of a smile crinkled at the corners of Baze’s eyes, and he allowed Chirrut to hold the cup to his lips, though he could easily have done it himself. He brushed a kiss along slender fingers as they helped him drink, and he felt rather than saw his partner shiver. He allowed his eyes to slip closed, only for a moment. He was so tired.

They held hands, and pressed their foreheads to each other as they picked up the chant.   
“I am one with the force, the force is with me-”   
“The force is with me, I am one with the force.”


	2. Chapter 2

In the days following Order 66, Chirrut worked. It was the only thing he could think to do, to keep the lingering despair from clawing at his mind. The Empire arrived, as they knew it would. Stiffly uniformed officials came to their gates, and assured them that they meant no harm, and that the Empire simply had use for the Kyber. They were assured safety from harm, and the safe relocation of the guardians while the Empire took over the temple. The guardians, still reeling from the slaughter of hundreds of Jedi and their children, refused. Their fears were confirmed when the stormtroopers arrived, and the guardians barricaded themselves in and waited to see what would happen next.

It was Chirrut who oversaw the sneaking of the youngest of the temple's occupants out, with whatever resources they could spare. He and Baze would accompany them to the outskirts of the city in the dead of night; the two of them knew the city's back passages well from their childhoods. Baze would give them whispered instructions on how to survive, how to ration out their food, which way to the nearest city, and more so that they were loved, they were safe, they were protected by the will of the force. Sometimes, Chirrut would carry the crying child to their destination. On one occasion they mistimed their escape, and ran into a patrol of stormtroopers. Chirrut defeated five of them with his staff in one hand, and a young boy in the other. Once they were down, he beat a rhythm into their helmets like a drum and wiggled his hips until the boy stopped crying, and Baze was dragging them on their way once more.

"All is as the force wills it, little one. We cannot discern happiness if we have never known suffering," Baze would say to each, and he and Chirrut would gently kiss the tops of their heads in blessing and send them on their way. The two of them never discussed this, the uncertainty of whether or not the children made it. Whether they were even still alive. It ate at the both of them, thinking about it, but it seemed like if they gave words to their fears it would make them real, and their fragile hope would crumble.

It had been a week now, and the guardians were growing restless. An attack was imminent, that much was clear, for a great darkness in the force had descended on Jedha. The stormtroopers were a constant presence outside the temple walls, but they had not yet made a move. Instead, their officials reminded them daily of their opportunity to give up their Kyber. They announced it from a great speaker, so that the inhabitants of the temple and all its surroundings could hear of the great mercy of the Empire. The guardians knew an attack would be inevitable. But how and when, they could not say. Chirrut seemed restless to the point of madness now, prowling the temple walls, practicing his forms, going over and over the plans for defence, for escape, for surrender. It seemed as though the guardians were as yet to decide on which they would do. Baze was worn out just trying to keep up with what he was doing, and finally he caught Chirrut in the hallway, pinning his wrists to the wall.

"I'm flattered by your eagerness but now is not the time, Baze," said Chirrut  
"When was the last time you ate?" asked Baze.  
"When was the last time I ate what?" said Chirrut, wiggling his eyebrows, "anyway, I don't have time, I've got to-"   
He went to walk away, but Baze stopped him with a hand on his chest.  
"Chirrut," said Baze, his voice low and serious. He could feel Chirrut's heart hammering away beneath his palm. It seemed like every part of Chirrut was in fast motion in some way or other, the way his eyes darted about, always straying to the temple walls, the way he couldn't seem to stop moving, the way his hands couldn't seem to stop shaking.   
"Take a moment Chirrut, you've worn yourself out. Centre yourself." Baze took a deep breath in, as loudly as he could. Chirrut's eyes fluttered closed, and together they exhaled.  
"Pray with me," said Baze. Chirrut nodded wearily, then brought their foreheads together.  
"I am one with the force," he said  
"The force is with me," said Baze

The temple wall exploded in a shatter of fire and light and raining debris, and without a further thought, Chirrut and Baze made their way to the gate. Their decision was made. They would fight.


End file.
